Awakened
by LesiliaFrostte
Summary: Shannae Koster is an ordinary 17 year old fan girl of The Mortal Instruments book series, until Sebastian M. appears and takes her into the world of shadowhunters and downworlders. Now Shannae must face dangers of death and dangers of the heart, all the while figuring out what makes her special. There's a war brewing, Shadowhunters against Awakened, and she's at the the head of it.
1. Awakened

His hair spilled out over the pillow like silk, catching the spark off the moonlight spilling into my bedroom through the window. My breath caught in my throat as I took him in - he was on his side, one arm folded under a pillow as his chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of sleep.

I knew what he was.

Shadowhunter.

The language of the angel was scrawled along his chest in black ink, the stories of battles won and lost adorned his skin like chapters in a book.

I could feel the heat of his breath. I knew I should feel scared - I should be screaming for help, hoping my sister in the next room hears me and rushes to my rescue. But I didn't.

I not only knew what he was, but who he was.

Sebastian Morgenstern.

"Given up on trying to burn down the world?" I ask, my voice sounding distant and calm to my own ears.

His eyes snapped open - two pits of endless voids gazing through the mirrored black voids of my own, I could sense a terrible sadness in those eyes, mixed with something else entirely - a desire for destruction. Anyone else would have found it unnerving - the pallor of his skin, contrasted with the onyx depths of his eyes, but I didn't.

Maybe because I stared at those eyes in the mirror every morning, scowling at their terrible dullness.

I didn't think they were dull anymore.

His lips curled into a grin, despite his looks, the smile transformed his whole face into something broken and twisted. "Merely seeking an accomplice, care to join?" his voice was low, crackling from sleep.

Desire swept through my veins. Desire to be by this broken boy, to help him achieve glory. Did that make me a bad person? I didn't know. Doesn't everyone seek some form of glory?

I grinned back, my blood racing at the thought of an unknown future.

"It'll be my pleasure." 

* * *

I should have been nervous, I know. I should have been wondering why on earth Sebastian Morgenstern had sought me out in particular as an accomplice. Above all, I should've been questioning my sanity regarding the fact that a fictional character from a book series was now a living, breathing human being. It was disturbing that the thing that frightened me the most wasn't a fictional character coming to life, but the lack of reaction to it on my behalf.

I was calm.

Too calm. It felt as if I was caught on a fishing hook, getting dragged along for the ride towards one inevitable destination. A calm of submission washing over me as I let myself be dragged to the surface, eager to escape the dull murkiness that was my mundane life.

Of course, there had been only one answer to his question, and that had been yes. Somewhere, deep inside me, I felt a pull, a _need_ to follow Sebastian into whatever trouble he would most likely get us both into. I felt no guilt as I tied the laces of my Nike Free shoes and tied my hair with a ponytail I always kept around my wrist. No guilt for leaving my parents, or sister who I loved to bits. It was as if I was a different person, and I wasn't so sure I liked it.

I watched as Sebastian wandered around my room, observing everything with a feverish fascination, picking up books and flipping through them as if he was searching for something. I felt the cold unwelcome shiver of certainty that I wouldn't see my room again - my room of seventeen years that I was now leaving behind for a complete stranger.

I grabbed my necklace on the bedside table, something I never left the house without, and started securing it around my neck. "Can we address the elephant in the room?" I whispered, not wanting to disturb my sleeping family. The soft light from my bedside lamp was on, lighting the room in an eerie glow. Sebastian grunted, _go on_ , it said.

I took a deep breath."You do realise that, to me, you are an evil fictional villain in a book series?"

He picked up a whale plush toy on my desk and looked at it with amusement. It had buttons for eyes and didn't really resemble that of a whale at all, just a big fat blue blob. I didn't dare tell Sebastian it's name was Willy.

"The 'evil' in that statement was terribly unnecessary." he muttered.

At my silence he continued "Evil and villain, it practically means the same thing.

You might as well have said 'villainous fictional villain'" he clarified helpfully.

"Yeah well, you were twice the jerk that the word 'villain' encompasses, hence the additional 'evil' to further prove my point, anyway, as I was saying,"

Sebastian cut me off, "You're wondering why I, a beloved character from a book series-"

"Beloved" I scoffed quietly but Sebastian continued as if he hadn't heard me

"-has come to life and taken a sudden interest in an ordinary seventeen year old girl?" he placed Willy back on my desk and flicked its tail.

"I'm not ordinary." I said, my voice coming out quiet and cold. It was something I had known for a long time, that I wasn't like girls my age. Too many things separated me from the rest of the world - my determination, my values. Holding my breath under the swimming pool at the age of nine when I found out I had a minor case of asthma, training myself to run long lengths, stopping only when I collapsed in exhaustion. At first I had hated it, being different, strong-minded, but I no longer cared.

Sebastian smiled at my response, turning to look at me as I touched the pendant at my neck, a habit. "No, I can tell you're most definitely not ordinary Shannae Koster for most mundanes would never oppose to being called ordinary. As for me, well, I come from a different dimension, one where the stories you have read are based on truths, where Shadowhunters and Downworlders are real, where demons run wild and rip wounds into the world that bleed a crimson red, where we find life by following the blood of those that hurt others."

I could see the pulse jump at the base of his throat, his voice growing not in volume, but in passion. It was how my grandparents would sound when they talked about God, something they believed in with unwavering devotion.

"My world is not a safe one Shannae, but where you have read about me here, I, also, have read about you." He shook his head, chuckling, "And let me tell you, I am not disappointed."

His gaze seemed to scan me, as if it were the first time he was seeing me. My calves, hips, the curve of my chest. I could see him register every part of me and I felt as exposed as if I were standing naked in front of a thousand blaring eyes, vulnerable to every piece of scrutiny.

I crossed my arms, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart under his gaze. "You've read about _me_?" I asked dubiously "It didn't happen to be titled ' _Shannae's guide to a successful introvert life'_ was it?"

At my mocking tone the humour fell from his face, replaced by a slight frown between his brows. He opened his mouth and quickly closed it. I couldn't quite interpret his expression and it scared me - It was a curious and calculating look and strangely sad. One that gripped at my heart and twisted until the first drop of fear washed through my body, igniting my blood like fire to gasoline.

Before I could say anything Sebastian's body went rigid as he turned his head to the side, eyes unfocusedly downcast to the wooden floorboard. Soundlessly, he strode to the window and stood there, the light from underneath the curtain bouncing off the floor and causing his boots to gleam.

He moved with all the grace of a trained dancer, looking almost gentle, but I knew better than to be deceived, he was Nephilim after all.

 _Part Demon and Angel._ An intrusive voice reminded me, _not an ordinary Nephilim_.

He put a finger to his lips, "Demons." he said and gestured to the door."Can you hear that?" he whispered as I leaned closer to the door.

I strained my ears, trying to hear what Sebastian could. I could hear the rustle of palm trees. the occasional whistle of the wind as it howled down William street. I pressed my ear against the cold wooden surface and frowned. There. Just a faint sound. Something like an animalistic growl, too low and rumbling to be that of a dog. The sound was so dim I doubted anyone could've heard it without knowing what they were looking for.

I froze. No, not just a growl. _Growls_.

I suddenly became aware of the proximity between me and Sebastian. His eyes were glued to mine, a serious expression on his lips that told me he was waiting eagerly to see if I registered what he had heard. The look of involuntary fear I gave him answered the unspoken question as he reached into his belt, causing the muscles on his bare chest to move under the pale illumination of moonlight.

"The portal isn't far from here, it opened up by the river near Queens park."

I gaped at him, "You just opened an inter-dimensional portal near the Mary river? us proud Maryborough-ians find that offensive."

What could I say? it was a small town, and the people in Maryborough, which mostly consisted of pensioners and retirees, were a proud lot. The brown muddy river was the highlight of the town, if not the only one.

"Mary?" he asked, amused.

"Mary Poppins." I clarified, waiting for the realisation to dawn on his face. He looked at me and frowned. "Oh come on! Mary Poppins?" I hissed. " Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious? A teaspoon of sugar? nothing?"

"You're either beginning to hallucinate, or you're just downright insane." he concluded.

I scowled. Something flashed behind his ear, catching the light for just a second. It was too dark for me to make out what it was, or what Sebastian was looking for as he bent down to retrieve something in the side of his boot. The flash appeared again, and this time, I realised what it was - an earring. A silver band that caressed the cartilage of his upper ear.

My lungs tightened. Sebastian never wore an earring in the books.

I began to wonder just how much of the story I grew up reading was true, and the rest false.

"The demons have entered through the portal from my dimension. They're attracted to the scent of Angels, which would mean me." He gave me a calculating look as he straightened, something gleamed in his hand. "Or us."  
A warm hand enclosed my own as Sebastian pressed something cold and hard into my palms, I took it, balancing the weight of the object in my hand.  
A seraph blade.

"We can't leave them to roam wild on an unprotected world, we'll have to dispatch them before we go. Ready?" he asked.

I widened my eyes, unsure of what being 'ready' meant. If it meant having four hours of sleep and no food for the past twelve hours than I more of less fit the criteria.

Despite the pit of cold that had began to spread through my veins like ice the corners of my mouth twitched into what I supposed looked like a really forced smile. "I was born ready."

He gave a nod of approval, "Name it"

There was a challenge behind those words, an unspoken test behind his colourless eyes as he watched me intently, like I was the most fascinating thing in the world to him.

" _Raziel_ " I called the first name that came to mind as the weapon exploded with a blaring white glow, in the dead silence it seemed to hum as the name of an angel activated the power of adamas.

Sebastian's breath caught in his throat, as if surprised.

He grinned. "That's my girl." 


	2. The First Kill

Without a seconds hesitation, Sebastian yanked the door open and dived outside, missing the steps and landing onto the dirt pathway in a crouch. I followed, taking the steps two at a time, thankful for my choice of flexible black leggings. I surveyed my surroundings that was illuminated by the light of the seraph blade in my hand and suddenly felt ridiculous. Here I was, a teenage girl in leggings, T-shirt, and a pair of Nike shoes about to fight off demons with next to no training to fall back on. Sebastian was ahead of me, running down the street at incredible speed. He didn't need to look behind to know I was on his trail, my breathing was loud, irregular - strange for I took pride in my ability to steady my breathing when running, even through the coldest of winter mornings.

Something blurred in my peripheral vision as I ran, the seraph blade scattering iridescent light across the road as I pumped my arms faster. My calves burned with the sudden intensity of the physical activity and I wished I at least had had the time to stretch.

A growl sounded, low and guttural, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I ignored it, focussing instead on gathering more speed. I had always loved seeing how fast I could run and that determination had won me countless first prizes in the five hundred metre sprint at school, but then, there had never been an inter-dimensional demon on my tail to motivate me. Now, I felt as if I was flying, my feet barely touching the ground before taking another leap forward, propelling myself with speed I felt could have matched a race car.

Something collided with Sebastian who gave a yelp beside me. I hadn't even noticed I was about to overtake him. I skidded to a halt and turned, mentally preparing myself for the illustrations I'd seen in the Shadowhunter Codex - of monsters and _things_ unimaginably terrifying.

The reality was much, much worse.

There were five of them. The size of a large lion, with heads like a deformed snakes', the spaces between what looked like scales oozed a milky white liquid. Hundreds of eyes glowed a brilliant red, their brilliance squandered by a congested substance that surrounded them, raw, bloody and painful looking. They advanced on four taloned legs, twisted veins and muscles pulsing through the paper thin layer of skin and scales, their grotesque shape held weeping gashes of green ichor.

The stench was unbearable, I wanted to swallow back the taste of bile but my throat froze, so tight my head began to pound with the dull throb of a headache.

The realisation dawned on me that I might die, right here, on the street I had walked every day for the past seventeen years, and my vision blurred suddenly. The fear that gripped me was so intense my mind went blank.

"Dendrok demons" Sebastian muttered, oblivious to my hesitation as the demons advanced, but his words barely registered, I was too busy trying to breathe past the smell of death and my own fear.

I looked over at Sebastian and tried to mimic his stance - feet apart, knees slightly bent, shoulders braced. I glimpsed a long gash across his bare chest, gleaming in the moonlit night and the sight cut through my fear like a knife, replacing it with anger.

A burning rush of determination seemed to thaw my throat and clear my head. These demons had hurt Sebastian and my reaction to seeing him hurt confused me. He was a Shadowhunter after all, he would have endured much worse, yet I felt a merciless hatred toward the Dendrok demons.

The closest of the demons was looking at me with unblinking eyes, a cruel twist of its mouth dripping cloudy saliva.

 _It thinks I'm dinner,_ I thought, disgusted.

Without thinking, I ran toward the demons and leaped into the air, hearing a surprised cry of alarm from Sebastian, orchestrating the blade as naturally as if it was an extension of my arm. I landed onto the back of the creature, it's hard muscles moving furiously underneath my feet as its head twisted back with a snarl. Despite its snake-like features the teeth it bared resembled none of the deadly needle-pointed fangs I had grown accustomed to seeing, these were thick and deadly - the jaw of a shark.

Balancing on the slippery scales of the creature's body was proving more difficult than I had expected. I gripped the blade with both hands which were now slick with nerves and brought it down. The demon snapped frantically and I lost my footing, narrowly escaping its bone-shattering jaws as they barked at empty air. I fell, slipping backwards, instinctively twisting to land painfully on my side to absorb the impact.

In that split second I was well aware that the things I was doing was not things I should have been able to do. I was responding to the situation with the natural instincts of a trained fighter, which I was anything but. I wasn't sure whether it was coming from the shadowhunter within me or the survival instincts that accompanied the kick of adrenaline but I was thankful nonetheless. I was especially thankful for the speed in which I deftly rolled from under the demon's leg as it came down with weight that splintered the concrete road, saving me from becoming mash.

The little time spent on ground level allowed me to view my enemy from a new angle. Though it's entire body was covered with the protection of thick, jagged scales, I glimpsed the belly of the demon, It's soft underside spare and vulnerable.

I could feel the skin on my back burn from the grazes on the road, perhaps even sticky with blood but I didn't care. The demon reared as I dived out of range once more, desperately grappling for a chance to get back onto my two feet.

I was vaguely aware of Sebastian fighting in the distance, the sound of demon cries and the soft singing of the seraph blade as it sliced through the air and wondered if he was watching with disappointment as I rolled around the ground helplessly.

The demon chattered in frustration and I gratefully took advantage of the distraction, drawing myself up into a crouch only to dive back to the ground, rolling under the creature and plunging my blade into its soft belly. A shriek emitted from its gaping mouth and ichor burst from the wound, scorching my skin like liquid fire. I had acted in the heat of the moment, forgetting that demon blood was toxic to the flesh of shadowhunters. I closed my eyes and mouth shut, ripping the blade back out of its belly. I felt a gentle gust of air as it took with it the tormented screams of a dying Dendrok demon, teleported back to its home dimension in death.

I opened my eyes and gasped. I tried to scream for Sebastian, cry for help, but all I could manage was a faint sob.

The pain was unbearable.

I recalled a story I had read, about a doctor who prioritized his patients by the level of their pain and how the people in most pain were never the ones screaming and thrashing about, but the ones who lay silent and dormant.

I could never make sense of the doctor's logic, until now.

I smelt the tang of blood in the air - my blood - mixed with the sharp odour of demons. I welcomed the unpleasant stench, using it to sharpen my mind, trying not to acknowledge the blistering cold burn on my body and the thought that I probably looked like Wade Wilson from Deadpool.

Slowly, I lifted my body into a sitting position, feeling each place my skin made contact with skin like a bolt of electricity - the crook of my elbow, the folds of my palms. I fought the urge to look at what was left of my flesh, knowing I would lose any mental strength I had left to keep going, to keep moving, and I _needed_ to keep moving.

For a second demon was headed straight towards me.

For a fleeting moment I contemplated giving up, of throwing my arms in the air and letting the demon rip me to shreds, ending the agony. I frowned, shoving the unwelcome thoughts aside.

I told Sebastian I wasn't ordinary and I wasn't about to just give up on life because things got tough.

I was a shadowhunter.

The thought chilled my bones and added fuel to my fire at the same time. It was the first time I had actually acknowledged it - that the blood that ran through Raziel's veins also ran in mine. The seraph blade still glowing contentedly in my hand was proof of that.

I swung in a wide arch as the demon charged. I held none of the fear that I had when facing the first demon - I was confident, placing my feet purposefully as if leading a dance.

A gash opened up along the demon's cheek, bursting multiple eyes that in turn sprayed a green liquid glue. I recoiled, avoiding the majority of the stuff. The demon let out an angry growl, regarding me with new eyes as if it had just realised I was a threat to be feared.

It obviously didn't see what I did to its buddy.

Time seemed to slow as I steadied my breathing, there was nothing else in the world but the weapon in my hand and the target, underlined with the distant ebb of my aching body.

I turned, running towards an empty brick building that was once an art shop. It had long since run out of business and the shutters were closed over the glass doors, looking sad and bleak, not unlike the rest of the small street shops that struggled endlessly to keep their doors open.

The demon's taloned feet scratched against the road as it pursued, the noise making me cringe.

I wondered if the damage to the road by the demons was glamoured from mundane eyes, I doubted it.

I ran up the brick wall, surprising myself with the distance I managed to vertically run before flipping, surprising myself yet again, something I was doing a lot of tonight.

 _Who are you even?_ the intrusive voice reappeared, like an irritating fly that wouldn't stay out of the kitchen during summer.

I hung suspended in air as I sailed backwards over the demon, the world tilting so that when it snapped at me it nearly took off my head. I swung and watched as the head of the demon detached from its body, landing onto the pavement with a sickening thud and then vanishing. The last of the demons.

I landed heavily in a crouch, my burnt hand clasping the hilt of the blade, slick with sweat.

The silence that followed was unnerving when contrasted with the cries and sounds of battle. Suddenly there were no distractions to focus my mind on, no noise or actions to blur my senses into a calm bliss. Instead I found myself thinking of my wounds, and worst of all, the pain.

Wincing, I unfolded myself, managing to stand despite the tingling needles that shot through my legs like tiny daggers of ice. I didn't need to look down to know that my leggings and shirt was shredded.

My hand went to my throat, taking comfort in the cool touch of the crystal pendant as I bit back a cry. The adrenaline was draining out of my system as fast as it had entered, leaving me feeling weak and empty.

My legs gave out as I fell to my knees, the contact of the rough road on my bare blistered skin sprung tears to my eyes.

I was dimly aware of Sebastian running towards me, saying my name over and over again, his eyes wide with worry. I liked the way he said my name, in that melodic voice that seemed to drip sweet honey, a voice edged with an exotic accent foreign to me.

Something hot kissed my arm as the stars above me seemed to blur, illuminating the entire sky with a spattered light as they merged with each other, forming a blanket of glowing snowflakes. I laughed giddily, causing Sebastian to cast me a concerned look. I wanted to point at the sky and show Sebastian who was obliviously missing the spectacular scene, but I couldn't move, which was annoying.

Sebastian stood, still avoiding the light show going on above his head, if only he would look up.

I'm delusional, I thought, surprisingly okay with this new realisation.

I didn't necessarily want Sebastian's help. The last thing I needed was for him to think I was weak and pathetic, but then, I wasn't in any position to argue as he threw my arm around his shoulder and started the uncomfortable shuffle towards the portal. We were in full view of the shimmering entrance when I stumbled, Sebastian swiftly catching me by the crook of my arm before I greeted the path with my face.

"By the Angel, you're a walking zombie." Sebastian grunted. His tone was angry, as if I had purposefully took a swim in demon ichor.

"Yeah, well, I could have used some help." I wanted to snap, but all that came out of my mouth was an incomprehensible moan, followed by a pool of dribble.

I was not proud of that.

Sebastian looked down at me, the outline of his hair tinged with the blue and pink hues that reflecting off the portal, his expression cast in shadows "Hold on to me, and whatever you do don't let go."

 _Oh, I won't,_ I thought. Bewildered by the idea that anyone would want to. I gripped his shoulder, feeling the roll of muscles under skin and something else, something hot and sticky.

Blood.

Without looking at him, I knew Sebastian was suffering injuries from the battle, especially considering the guy had been shirtless and lacked the commonsense to wear gear. His breathing was shallow and fast - the breath of an injured soldier.

I thought of my family and friends with a detached sorrow before plunging into the blaze.

We were falling.

Falling through a void.

I tasted blood and realised I had bitten my lip in the disorientating plummet into a new world, a different dimension. I felt sick, my limbs ached, there was no air to breath and I felt my head pound with terror.

Darkness filled my vision, silencing the merciless screams in my head.

* * *

 **Chapter 2 done!**  
 **wheeew! *wipes sweat from brow***  
 **Action scenes is something I've never written before, so it was interesting, haha.**  
 **Hope you enjoyed and leave a review! I love reading your thoughts. - not in a creepy way.**


	3. It's Only a Dream, Right?

_I dreamed of death. Death of my world, my beliefs, of things ending. My own death, in a sense, for I was a completely different person, unknown to myself - A stranger in the familiar shape that was my body._

 _I remembered voices and lights, bodies crumpling to the ground. More voices, strange and distant, not those of my family whose gentle tones I craved but urgent, authoritative voices that spoke of a higher purpose. Warmth eased my senses and I realised it was coming from Sebastian's body as he carried me princess style, my head, devoid of strength, nestling into the curve of his chest._

 _I had let him carry me, taking comfort in the support. The voices muddled together until they sounded like the rising crashes of the ocean waves, beating against the rocks relentlessly. I knew the noise was alarmingly loud, a chaotic frenzy as a soldier returned from fight, victim in tow, but I didn't care._

 _Or was I the victim? I had willingly given up a life of schedules and appointments for this, perhaps I was simply a soldier too._

 _Now everything faded away as I dreamed of blood and death, angels and demons, lies and truths. A face. I didn't know how I knew but it was Raziel's face, the hard set of his mouth seeming out of place on a divine child of God, the fine lines at his eyes too sad for one so heavenly. I kept trying to reach out, whether to hold him or merely touch his wheat skin, I wasn't sure, and then he was gone. Replaced with images of red skies and landscapes strewn with bodies, some clothed in black, the others a dark crimson - two sides of an opposing army, dead, with no one left standing to bask in the glory of a victory._

 _If this could even be called a victory, I thought bitterly, choking back a sob that threatened to burst from my lips. I clenched my fists, realising with a start that they each held something in them. My heart pounded as I raised my arms to eye level._

 _They were swords._

 _Slick with blood, and somehow, I knew it wasn't mine._

 _My pale knuckles were covered with it, the stuff oozing out from under my clenched hands on the hilts that now shook in my grip, trailing blood down my arms. The two blades clattered to the ground soundlessly. I watched as the blood that stained the metal blade now stained the blades of grass. My mind whirled. I stared at my feet that were bare despite the red liquid that coated them, both old and new, dry and wet. Bloody footsteps tracked from the massacre before me, up the rise in the hill. I turned, surveying the land behind me which was bare and peaceful, the footsteps nowhere to be seen, for they ended where I stood._

 _My shaking hand went to my throat, grasping onto empty air. My pendant was gone._

You killed them. _A voice in the dark shadows of my mind said, confirming what I had feared._ You killed them all for that is what you are. A killer. _Amusement coloured the cold voice, and it laughed. It's soundless chuckle echoing inside my head._ All Nephilim are but you are worse for your heart is tainted with a merciless wrath that lacks the controlled temper of God's heavenly children.

 _"Stop it." I whispered. My head was pounding._

The frost will destroy everyone it loves, if it doesn't destroy itself first.  
 _  
"Stop." My voice came out feeble and desperate, a waver in its pitch. I shut my eyes and fell to my knees. I didn't understand. I didn't understand anything the voice was saying. I wanted it to end. I wasn't a killer, I was a normal girl. I hated what the voice was saying and how it managed to turn my world upside down, making me doubt myself, fear myself. "Just stop it."_

 _I felt the voice smirk._

I'm not the one hurting him _. It said._ You are.  
 _  
My eyes snapped open and my blood ran cold. Raziel gazed up at me. Confusion and hurt in his expression as a sword - one that I had been holding, I realised with a start - protruded from his chest, his hands gripping the blade, as if he could prevent it from sinking deeper._

 _My own hands were holding the hilt._

 _Raziel coughed blood, his lips parting as I snatched my hands back and stared at them in horror. They were the same hands I used to stroke my sister's hair, play the piano, but now I regarded them with a new found terror._

 _A killler's hands._

 _I screamed._

 _A scream so full of fear and grief that It seemed to shatter the world around me, splintering like the glass of a broken mirror as piece by piece, darkness surrounded me once again._


	4. An Unexpected Visitor

"No!" I screamed. I bolted upright, kicking at the sheets which seemed to suffocate me with their white purity. _Dirty_ , I thought, I was dirty and these sheets represented the complete opposite, therefore they repelled me. I didn't deserve to sleep in such a untainted colour.

I was vaguely aware of the person in the chair beside my bed, now sitting next to me and muttering soothing words of reassurances, the voice tinged with a small panic - A man's voice, I realised, soft and youthful.

"No! no! Get them off me!" I sobbed as the sheets became entangled with my legs. Noticing my distress, the man deftly reached across and pulled the sheet from the mattress, freeing my limbs. The sheet fell to the ground as two hands were placed on my shoulders.

"You're okay." he assured, trying to catch my eye as I took in my surroundings in a blind panic - searching for familiarity, something that connected me to who I am - my room, my family, my clothes. I looked down at the plain white gown I wore and bit my lip. My eyes went back to the room I occupied. It was a large room, wooden and sparsely decorated despite the plentiful supply of bedding furniture, curtains and plain wooden bedside tables. An infirmary, I noted from the snow coloured covers and mint drapes.

I felt my nerves start to settle, though the ghost of my dream still lingered, the memories of last night came flooding back to me and the mist that clouded my conscience was clearing.

I turned to finally put a face to the voice - not a man, I realised, a boy, about my own age.

Dark brown hair fell into his eyes which were framed by over-sized black glasses, dorky but adorable in their innocence. For a moment I was startled by the parlour of his eyes, as I was with Sebastian's, yet where his were the colour of coal, the brown-haired boy's was the colour of steel. Yet so unlike steel, they were full of emotion. At the moment worry, relief and curiosity coloured them, and I wanted nothing more in that moment than my soft pastels and paper to capture their beauty.

He smiled, rubbing his thumb along my shoulder, only to fold his hands in his lap and sit back, giving me space - A respectful gesture that I appreciated. "How are you feeling?"

I nearly laughed. It was such an ordinary question for such a bizarre situation.

"Overwhelmed." I answered truthfully, regarding him under suspicious eyes.

"Which is to be expected." He smiled again, it was the sort of open smile that was easy to trust, which made me all the more suspicious. He either had perfect bedside manners or was a master of deception. Or, of course, I was once again being reluctant to trust anyone but myself, a trait that had led to a very guarded human life. "Do you remember what happened last night?"

I frowned, staring down at my hands. _A killler's hands._ "Sebastian appeared in my room," I said, piecing together my fragmented memory, "practically inviting me to burn down the world with him. I accepted." My eyes locked onto his grey ones as he raised his eyebrows. There was shock in his expression before he doubled over with laughter.

"By the Angel!" he exclaimed and I flinched at the phrase, it seemed so unnatural a thing to say, yet to Shadowhunters, it was as common as any mundane exclamation to God or Jesus. "I didn't believe it at first but, it's true - You just accepted? no questions asked?"

My eyes narrowed. "You think I'm crazy." It was a statement, not a question.

He chuckled, momentarily removing his glasses to wipe at a tear of mirth in his eye, "Naturally. I mean, he could have been a psychopath."

A chill ran down my spine. Psychopath. In the books Sebastian had been part demon, was that true? or was that a morphed version of the truth? I recalled the depths of his eyes as he lay beside me in bed, of his face-splitting grin that spoke of deep desires and destruction.

"Isn't he?" I asked quietly. "A psychopath?"

The smile left his face and he frowned, his head slightly cocked to one side as if he were deciding on whether to say something. It was the same expression Sebastian had given me back in my bedroom -an expression that held secrets - an expression that made it clear I was not yet aware of the full extent of my situation.

The boy looked away and cleared his throat, "It is not for me to talk about Sebastian's past, he will tell you himself when you ask." he shifted in his seat, "For now, how about you tell me what you remember and I'll try fill in the blanks."

So I did. I told him about the fight, about the seraph blade lighting up in my hand and how I used it to kill two Dendrok demons. I told him how I lost consciousness while falling through the portal and only caught glimpses of the scene we arrived to - bodies falling, witch-light illuminated faces. He then went on to tell me they were the bodies of warlocks and Shadowhunters, who were the anchors between dimensions, making it easier for Sebastian to travel between. I flinched when he told me that they had died, their power and strength burnt out when Sebastian returned through the portal.

Guilt washed over me as I felt their deaths weigh on my shoulders, because it was my fault wasn't it? Sebastian had come to retrieve me, for god knows why, and therefore my involvement led to their demise.

Once I was done I sat back with a sigh, feeling strangely relieved to recount the bizarre events of that night. I left out the details of my injuries though, and about how I managed to fight through unimaginable pain. Besides, if glasses were here upon my arrival, which I assume he was, then he would've seen for himself.

I remembered the kiss of hot fire to my already scorched skin and raised my arm. Sure enough, the faint white scar of an iratze was burned there on my shoulder. A scar that would probably vanish over time, but never fully.

He watched me observe my skin, besides the white scar my skin left no trace of the blistering hot ichor from last night, which was a relief. I was not a vain person, but I had always liked my flawless skin and was glad to see it fully recovered from the injuries.

"You're nephilim Shannae." he spoke the words gravely as I touched the scar with a delicate hand."I heard there were books about our world in your dimension so you probably know quite a bit about what that means."

"Angel blood runs through our veins. We're Shadowhunters, sworn to protect the mundane world from the demon world."

He nodded, "And from anything else that threatens the human world."

I froze. "Like?"

He worried at his bottom lip, bringing the blood to the surface which contrasted with the fairness of his skin. "Us."

"Us?" I echoed lamely. My whole body had gone cold. Again I was reminded that the world I had grown up reading and loving, was not the same as the world I had voluntarily entered.

"Nephilim no longer stand united Shannae, we have been forced to split from those who call themselves Shadowhunters, we no longer abide by the clave's laws."

I stared, processing his words. "We?" I asked slowly, "as in, you and Sebastian?"

He smiled, "There are many more of us than just Sebastian and I - 'We' as in the entirety of this Sanctuary. There are many Sanctuaries set up across the whole world for those who stand opposed. We call ourselves the Awakened nephilim."

"And what are the laws of these so-called Awakened? how do you differ from the Clave?"

"With no intention of sounding bias, we are not cruel like the clave. There is no law, but freedom of choice and heart, as it should be."

Silence followed as he let this information sink in. Abruptly, he stood up and walked to the bedside table, "Here." he threw clothes onto the bed and I reluctantly unfolded them and stared, they were black, leather, with a singular navy stripe down the pant leg and sleeve - A uniform. "You've got questions, most of which would be better explained by the Keeper. There's a bathroom down the end." He gestured to the clothes in my lap as I observed them. "They're your size, I checked from the shredded T-shirt you were wearing when you portalled in." He shook his head, "Sebastian can be a right jerk sometimes, he should've told you to gear up as best you could. You looked like you came from hell."

I barely heard what the boy was saying, my mind was whirling with questions - Who was the Keeper? and what sort of person were they? were the Awakened really an independent organisation completely separated from ruthlessness of the Clave? did they stand for good? I stored the questions away into a safe box in my mind, along with the more futile questions such as - Who undressed me? When am I going to be fed? Where will I live?

Keeping my cool was priority number one, and although I was overwhelmed yet anxious to find out more, I wanted nothing more than to wash away the blood, grime and sweat from last night.

I stood up and waved the pants at the boy, "I'll shower." I announced. I started towards the bathroom door and stopped, turning around to watch as he picked up the bed cover off the ground and tucked it into the mattress. I hesitated, "Is Sebastian okay?" I asked. "He was injured last night."

The boy looked up, surprised. "He's fine, he's survived much worse, believe me."

I scowled at myself, of course he has suffered much worse, I needn't worry about his well-being, I should be more focused on not getting _myself_ killed by whatever dangers lurked in this world. Suddenly I felt like a baby who had just learnt to walk, now wandering around a new and strange world, picking up sharp objects and experiencing things for the first time - learning that fire burns, knives draw blood, and falling from high places makes you go splat.

"Does he always fight half naked?" I inquired.

A ghost of a smile. "A good eighty percent of the time, you should tell him to wear more clothes."

I thought about this, then shrugged dramatically, "I think I'll live." I said.

He raised his eyebrow and chuckled, "He was worried about you all morning since he'd been denied entrance until the Silent Brothers had finished healing you." He straightened and cracked his knuckles, I cringed as every bone popped. "In the end they chose someone with proper bedside manners to sit by and wait for you to wake up, aka me. Sebastian probably would have grown impatient and dumped cold water on your face."

I shifted my weight uncomfortably, "Silent Brothers tended to me? they're on our side?"

He pushed his glasses up his nose, "Not necessarily. It's complicated." with that he started to leave. I guessed I wasn't going to get much more out of him, it looked like the trip to the Keeper was my road to answers.

The boy opened the door and stopped, turning to give me a look of realisation followed by an embarrassed smile. "Oh, by the way, the name's Max. Max Lightwood."

I gaped. It took all my willpower to force some words out my throat, "Sh-Shannae Koster" I stammered.

He didn't appear to notice my shock, instead he laughed as if I had said something stupid, "I know. I know who you are, you'll find most of us here do."

My mouth went dry. "Why?" I asked. "How do you know my name?"

He hesitated, his lips pulled into a tight line. "Because we've been looking for you Shannae, for a very, very long time."


	5. Road to Answers

The place was everything I imagined an Institute to look like - high ceilings, cathedral-like windows that lined the wide corridors, wooden cobote skirtings with abstract patterns that swirled and twisted within its' figure. Everything sung wealth and luxury, making me feel small and insignificant in my body of flesh and bone. I remembered that this wasn't an Institute, but a Sanctuary, or so they were called. The treatment I'd received so far had been nothing but pleasant hospitality, but I wasn't about to let my guard down just yet and wander around in ugg boots and a loose bun, making myself at home in this supposed 'Sanctuary'.

Because the reality was, I had no idea who I could trust.

I walked on, barefoot, with the idea in mind to ask for shoes because dear god, the floor was cold. And my Nike free shoes were apparently being cleaned, which was nice of them. Sebastian walked beside me, directing the way with subtle angles of his body that I found myself being able to read like a book. He was wearing something that resembled those of Navy uniforms - dark double breasted jacket, with strong padded shoulders, which I thought were totally unnecessary. The cuffs of his sleeves ringed with three golden braids, the first of which that flared towards the elbow in a design that nagged at the back of my mind with familiarity. It was a military attire. Professional and authoritative. Specially cut by bespoke tailors to make anyone who wore it look smart and official, except for Sebastian. His trousers were creased, evidence of a much needed ironing. He wore his jacket open, revealing a bare, hard muscled core that most guys would spend days at gyms to achieve, and even then it would be a poor comparison to Sebastian's chiselled definition. He looked more like a hot delinquent than anything.

I thought back to what Max had said about him always being shirtless and felt a prickle of nerves run up my spine. There was something almost animalistic about the trait, but at the same time, down-right alluring.

I clenched my clammy hands as people watched us pass by, the chatter that filled the space dying as we walked, their eyes glued to us as time seemed to stop.

No, not us, I realised. Me.

Despite the cold, I felt sweat trickle down the nape of my neck.

Sebastian watched me out of the corner of his eye, and I wished he wouldn't, I probably looked as pale as a ghost, especially considering my stomach had begun an angry rumble that spoke of my lack of eating in the past twenty four hours. I marched on, ignoring the burning gaze of the demon boy. I made a conscious effort to avoid contact as our arms swung side-by-side with a steady rhythm, occasionally almost touching hands at our near proximity.

A girl with a blonde pixie-cut was talking animatedly to her friends. I felt a bitter-sweet smile creep across my face, relishing in the warmth of memories it brought of me with my own friends and sister. I wondered if I would ever have that again, here.

The sound of Sebastian's boots echoing down the hall announced our presence before we were seen, and the pixie girl and her friends spun around, caught sight of me, and froze. A horrified look passed over the girl's face and my stomach suddenly felt sick, then she did something I didn't expect - she grinned.

It was a grin so full of pride and relief. A grin that made me avert my eyes and focus on the hall ahead, ignoring the confusion and dread that dug its way through my bowel.

"Everyone's watching you." Sebastian spoke for the first time since I'd exited the infirmary. He had been waiting outside, leaning against the wall which gave an excellent view for one to admire his core. He hadn't said much, just gave me a hard pat on the back, in much the same fashion I had often seen guys greet each other, "Good?" he had asked. He seemed to survey me with an anxious gaze smartly hidden behind a lazy grin, it seemed what Max said was true, he had been worried about me.

Sebastian's head turned ever so slightly towards the left corridor and I deftly changed route to follow.

"So I've noticed." I replied. I had also noticed, as a couple of people rounded the corner, that everyone was looking at Sebastian with a mixture of fear and respect, but mostly fear. Quickly clearing the path to stick to the wall as we passed, treating him like a walking cyclone that would tear through anyone blocking his path.

But then again, maybe he would. What did I know?

"I heard you were worried about me."

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks and forced a snort of indifference, "I wouldn't say worried, just mildly concerned, calmly apprehensive if you will."

He laughed, the sound earning curious glances from others. "Oh? were you also mildly concerned that I fight shirtless?" Amusement coloured his voice and I mentally cursed Max who undoubtedly recited every word of our conversation back to Sebastian, if I had known he was burning everything I said into his memory I wouldn't have said anything remotely embarrassing in the first place.

I shrugged. "You got me. I'm concerned for your Magic Mike abs."

At my serious tone, Sebastian turned to look at me, eyes wide. "My what?"

"Abs. You know, Magic Mike? Channing Tatum? the guy that could probably open a can with his stomach muscles?" I informed him, then gasped. "Oh my god, can _you_ open a can with your stomach muscles?"

"You're being delusional again." He pursed his lips, as if resisting the urge to laugh.

"Maybe, but I think I've earned the liberty of being delusional considering my circumstances."

"You talk too much."

"I've also earned those rights." I nodded.

A group of girls passed by us silently, erupting into hushed whispers when they thought we were out of earshot, we weren't. I heard my name spoken multiple times and the comfortable humour shared between Sebastian and I died.

Sebastian studied me from the corner of his eyes, "You don't seem fazed," he began, "about the fact that everyone knows who you are."

"Oh believe me, I'm beyond fazed." It was the truth, I was fazed, bewildered, and down-right confused. I wanted answers. I had agreed to follow Sebastian into a world I thought I knew but turns out I knew nothing about, and it was beginning to worry me.

 _Good_ , I thought, relieved by my reaction. _I should be worried, I should be frightened and scared_. 'Fear is a key survival instinct, fear keeps people alive' my father used to tell me, and if that was the case I was so dead.

He looked at me and frowned, "You're a challenge to read Shannae Koster." he spoke my name thoughtfully and I nearly melted. "You walk as if you stroll these halls every morning, I'm hardly giving directions yet I'd say you seem quite capable of finding your way to the Keeper by yourself."

I raised my hands to pull at my hair, tightening the band that secured it off my face. "Not true, I'm following your body."

He raised an eyebrow and whistled, "Well cupcake, you certainly don't mess about with small talk."

I rolled my eyes, "Your _body_ _language_ , your head turns ever so slightly towards the direction you want to take, followed by the swing of your arm. The arm opposite to the direction you're about to turn swings heavier, as if your building momentum." I shut my mouth, biting off the rest of the words. This is what had made me different from ordinary people - the things I would notice. I wasn't ashamed of how I was different, but more than anything I didn't want Sebastian to think me crazy.

I sneaked a glance up at him. He was smiling.

We walked in silence for the remaining journey, he didn't once comment on my rambling or engage in any other topic of conversation, except to point out the training room we passed, as if I was expected to use it.

Oh god, I _was_ expected to use it.

The door we came to was big, very big. The first thing I noticed was that there were no door knobs or any visible way inside, the second was that there was a large something inscribed into the wood. More precisely - burned. It was a mixture of jagged lines and edged shapes, the colour of ink.  
I traced it with my fingers, falling into the bumps of where the symbol had been etched. I knew what it looked like, it looked like a rune, but not any I'd ever seen in the Shadowhunter's Codex - which was probably pathetic in comparison to the real one. This rune was sharp and menacing, making me feel oddly intimidated as I glared at it.

My head started to pound, and I frowned against the oncoming headache. I looked away from the symbol, my eyes burning as Sebastian raised his fist and knocked.

I raised my eyebrows, "No secret password?"

He grinned. "Only way in is if the Keeper wants us in."

The double doors swung open, revealing a circular room.

It took all my will power not to gawk, the room was nothing short of medieval. Large tapestries hung from the walls which rose to a domed ceiling of painted cherubs, the table that was positioned in the centre of the room gleamed a mahogany red, strewn with maps, books, papers and knick-knacks, some of which I noticed were steles and seraph blades. I felt as if I had stepped into some Italian museum, furnished with only the highest quality products.

A thought struck me - I realised I might no longer be in Australia, which seemed highly likely, and wondered where on earth I was exactly. I quietly added the matter of location to my mental list of questions that was becoming excessively long.

The left wall was filled with books, neatly stacked and organised. A delicate staircase was efficiently built into the wall for the higher books to be easily accessible. There was a metal border around the lower spine of the books, and I realised it was a locking contraption. Only the most important books it seemed were kept in the Keeper's room.

"You saw the mark on the door?"

I turned as a figure walked across the staircase, smiling. Only when she descended the steps and was on ground level did I realise who she was.

I stared.

Jocelyn Fairchild.


	6. Dark Desires

There was no mistaking the flame coloured hair and green eyes that glittered like emeralds. They were the same colour Sebastian's ought to have been, I realised, if he had been born...normal.  
At my silence she nodded, her hair falling around her tired face, making her look younger than she was.

"Of course you did, my son has told me you don't miss much." She watched as Sebastian threw himself into an armchair by the window and began sharpening his sword. The entire right wall, I realised, was decked with knives and armoury, all of which reflected the light pouring through the clouded glass of the two massive windows.

Jocelyn seemed to study him with a look of worry, or was it fear? I felt a pang go out for my own mother, who was probably now following up on the sudden disappearance of her eldest daughter. She would mark it down as a kidnapping, never knowing the truth, that her loving Shannae had willingly left, knowing she would never laugh about the Kardashians with her again, or watch period dramas together while snuggled on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate.

"The mark means dream eater," the sound of Jocelyn's voice cut through my thoughts, and I was grateful. I didn't want to think about home. Home was far away. "It resembles what we are, awakened. No longer blinded by the delusional dreams of the Clave, the unjust laws they nail into our minds until we become no better than the demons we hunt."

She paused - I had the annoying feeling it was to give me time to process her words -then continued. "Nephilim are divided. Shadowhunters and The Awakened are continuously at war, we no longer share the same vision of a protected world - us as the protectors." she circled the table, eyes cast down thoughtfully. I could hear the emotion in her voice, as well as the determination, but despite this nothing about Jocelyn struck me as leader quality. She was a small woman, the jacket she wore, similar to Sebastian's, hanging limp on her petite frame. Where she was little and dainty, I was the complete opposite, with enough curves to share between three grown women. "Our purpose to protect mundanes from the shadow world has been overlooked, the very reason for our existence has been ignored, instead the Clave lives in fear of demons. Their hatred towards them have blurred the lines between protecting the mundanes and winning a fight." her gaze fixed on me through her lashes. "Whispers of war drove them to recruit mundanes for ascension. At first we were all for the idea, it was practical after all considering the loss we had endured during the Mortal War." She cleared her throat. "We thought we would re-open the academy, follow the procedures-"

"Except that didn't happen." Sebastian's voice cut in and his mother's eyebrows rose in surprise. He wiped the blade with a cloth and stood, sheathing it through his belt. I caught a brief glimpse of stars. "They were scared, weak, and started to act out of fear. Procedure was dismissed, ironic hey? considering they never bother to dismiss a law when it'd be convenient." he approached me and I stared, his tone was bitter, cold, a dark hatred oozing from the words he spoke. "They rounded up children by the thousands and forced them to drink from the cup, as you can imagine, that worked wonders." he scoffed. "They'd decided it was worth it - the lives lost. More died than ascended of course - their bodies were under stress, no one could have been expected to ascend under the circumstances in which they did. The transformation isn't easy for a human properly trained and informed, let alone a kid plucked off the street and thrown into a world they never knew existed."

"Even those without the sight were taken."

I turned to look at Jocelyn who was sitting on the edge of the table, my mind racing. "They wouldn't survive the process, why would they do that?"

"Because the Consul made a discovery, by formulating a mixture of nephilim blood and that of the child's, the mortal cup could activate the properties of angel blood and human blood pre-drinking, resulting in an blend that was supposedly safer for the child to consume. Therefore when they did drink, they'd respond as if they had the sight all along, increasing their chance of ascension."

" Bibere venenum in auro. " Sebastian muttered.

At my incredulous look Jocelyn sighed. "This is what we were told Shannae, not what we believe."

I shook my head."It seems too simple to believe."

"Exactly." Sebastian grunted. "I'd wager it was a complete lie."

"Do you know if it worked?"

Sebastian shook his head, "The recruits were carried out under strict surveillance, it was all very hush-hush." he gestured towards Jocelyn with his chin, "Jocelyn tried multiple times to follow one of their factions, but when the Clave wants to keep something hidden, it stays hidden."

I flinched as he addressed his mother by her first name, it wasn't said with either scorn or love, but a distant sort of contempt. I stored this piece of information away to evaluate later.

"Many people, including myself, felt very differently about these recruits. They were happening more often, the human world was far from suspecting a race of nephilim were kidnapping their children but they were terrified, lifeless, and in danger. Myself and a few others fled the Clave, seeking asylum in the Institutes. It wasn't hard to take over, in fact, most people shared our view of the injustice the Clave was doing to us and joined our cause. We called ourselves The Awakened." Jocelyn drew a long breath, as if she had forgotten to do so while talking, then exhaled. "You look like you want to say something Shannae."

That was the understatement of the year. I wanted to say a lot of things. I wanted to know so much in as short a time as possible. I needed answers, and I needed them now.

 _Relax_ , A voice whispered in my mind, not the intrusive demanding voice but a soft one. Somehow I recognized it as male, though it had no sound. _Remember, calm and collected._

I shifted my weight, my feet heavy. "It's just- unison is the one thing Shadowhunters _relied_ on, you built cities and won wars together."

"One war of which was against my own husband, a Shadowhunter might I remind you."

 _So the Mortal War did happen._ "But he was one rogue Shadowhunter out of how many? I think they're pretty decent odds."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying can't you fix this? can't you talk sense into the Clave?" as soon as the words left my mouth I knew they were futile. I'd read about the Clave, I knew how horrible they could be. There would be no talking sense or offering a peace treaty, Jocelyn had turned against their wishes, no, their orders, and therefore she was the enemy.

Jocelyn studied me for a while as my words hung dead in the air, abandoned. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "A world where nephilim are on different sides is not the world I had hoped for Shannae, but it is the one I got. I will honour the vow I took to serve the angel's justice and protect mundanes, I refuse to be bullied by the covenant laws, this is where I stand," she paused, unfolding her legs and standing to face me. "As an Awakened nephilim who fights for what is right."

Goosebumps rose on my skin. Her words seemed to fill me with purpose - a deep yearning to believe in what she did with a passion equal to her own filled me. I felt both their gazes like a boulder on my chest, half expectant and half reluctant. It seemed they were waiting for me to speak. To say what? I didn't know.

I touched the pendant at my throat which was as cold as ice. Nevertheless it brought me comfort, as it always did.

The silence stretched on and I fumbled for words, "That's great." I said, then cursed. "I mean, shit, no, it's terrible. What I meant to say is... wow?" my voice rose uncertainly and I cringed, dropped my pendant, and fiddled instead with the cuff of my sleeve which was a little too long in the arms for me.

Sebastian raised an amused brow and shot Jocelyn a look that I couldn't quite read.

"I mean- It's a lot to take in," I sighed, "and doesn't yet explain why I'm here, or why everyone here seems to know who I am." I pointed an accusing finger at Sebastian. " _He_ kidnapped me in the middle of the night without so much as a hello."

Sebastian made an amused sound, halfway between a laugh and a cough. "Is that how kidnappers usually greet their targets?"

"I'm a victim." I countered, ignoring the sarcasm in his voice.

"A willing victim."

I threw my hands in the air, "That's beside the point, this isn't what I signed up for."

Jocelyn cocked her head to the side, a frown on her face. "What _did_ you think you signed up for?" she asked with honest curiosity.

My body went cold. I signed up for a life of freedom. A life away from the dreary mundane life, not a war. I wanted to burn worlds and fall, fall to hell so I could fly back up towards the heavens. I wanted to love with a passion that'd consume me and hate with a fury that would destroy me. There had always been a reason I was drawn to the fictional character Sebastian Morgenstern, more so than the heroes or heroines of the story, and that was because of his dark soul. I was drawn to the darkness like a moth to the light, I saw beauty in disaster and joy in evil.

 _Given up on trying to burn down the world?_

The sudden evaluation of my hopes made me stop short. I was mad. Completely crazy. I obviously couldn't tell Jocelyn that, I couldn't tell her that I had hoped for another world far away from the trivial life of human principles and values - a world where wars were fought with fists not heads, where speed limits didn't exist and rules didn't apply. That was the world I thought I had signed up for when I went with Sebastian.

Sebastian caught my eye. Reflected there, I saw curiosity - a desire to speak, as if he had read my mind and thoughts and now wished to question them, voice them, evaluate them. Which wasn't possible, was it?

He glanced at his mother and any urge to speak on his behalf died. Jocelyn, it seemed, was not a welcomed audience for whatever Sebastian had wanted to say.

 _Merely seeking an accomplice, care to join?_

Jocelyn seemed to observe me, then shake her head. "It doesn't matter, you are here now. Sebastian," she turned to her son and placed a hand on his shoulder. I could have sworn she hesitated. "Would you get Ven to cook her something?"

Despite the low grumble of hunger that sounded in my stomach at the mention of food, I opened my mouth to object. I still had questions.

Her hand shot out. "No, Shannae. I'm sorry but no more questions until you've eaten something, you look positively starved. We can continue where we left off as soon as you're fed." She smiled. "Don't worry, all will become clearer. You are safe with us Shannae, and as you've probably guessed, very important." She addressed Sebastian, "Would you escort her to the kitchens?"

Sebastian caught my eye again and I couldn't help but feel a little dizzy, his gaze was like a drug, it seemed to slow time and cloud my judgement.

His eyes narrowed. "It'll be my pleasure."

* * *

 **Author's note: How are you all liking it so far? don't forget to leave a comment! ^_~ x**


	7. Angelus nūntius

The walk to the kitchen was silent as I trailed behind Sebastian, purposefully letting him lead the way as to not receive any more attention on how I could sense the directions even before he turned. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, despite the gawking stares that I continued to receive. I ducked my head, hoping to become smaller than the near-six foot giant I was. It didn't work.

I briefly let my mind wonder how many people the sanctuary held, for every face I passed was definitely a new one.

A dark skinned boy approached, decked in the same clothing as me - minus the shoes, I really had to talk to Sebastian about that - and probably no older than me either. His eyes met mine and he nodded formally, "Angelus nuntius" he muttered as I passed. I frowned. _Angelus nuntius_. Before I could shake off the strangeness of those words another greeted me the same way.

"Angelus nuntius."

A girl nodded respectfully as she too passed out of sight. It took all I had to keep my face completely neutral and unfazed even though I was just that.

Okay, so _Angelus_. Obviously Latin for Angel, even I could work that out. But, _nuntius_...

I'll admit that my knowledge of Latin only extended to English words with _actual_ Latin roots, like _pirata_ and pirate. Easy. _Nuntius_ and nun...highly unlikely but still a possibility.

Great, there was a possibility I was being called Angel Nun by these not-really-a-Shadowhunter Shadowhunters. The universe had humour I'd give it that.

Sebastian came to a door and pushed it open as I made a mental note of the location. Knowing the location of food was always priority one on my list.

"Ah, this must be the famous Shannae Koster!" the boy I assumed was Ven stood at the kitchen counter, dusting his flour-covered hands onto his supposedly white apron that was no longer white but a murky greyish brown. His dark olive skin contrasted with the light hazel colour of his eyes, and when he smiled, his teeth shone incredibly like a spotlight.

He gave me a once over and turned to Sebastian. "You didn't tell me she was such a looker."

Sebastian plucked a pear from the fruit bowl and sat on the edge of the dining table, observing the fruit. "I'm sure I mentioned she was quite the jewel."

As well as the kitchen, it seemed the room also stood as a small dining room, though I doubted many Shadowhunters- no...Awakened ate dinner around a table like a loving family. They probably had better things to do while they ate. Like obsessively polish their weapons or show off their battle scars to one another or whatever it was that nephilim did these days.

The kitchen was nothing short of modern though, shining pans hung from the wall and the kitchen countertops gleamed a polished marble. There were three stools lining the island in which the boy in the messy apron stood with a rolling pin.

At any other time I would have been flattered by the compliment, but my whole body was incapable of feeling anything but the hunger in the empty pit of my stomach. Instead I turned to Ven.

"Well this jewel," I gestured to my face, "won't be around for much longer if I continue to breathe in nothing but air."

Ven seemed to raise his eyebrows at Sebastian who had gone deadly quiet. Even though I couldn't see him, I felt his whole body tense.

"And she speaks French!" Ven exclaimed, clearly impressed.

I frowned. Had I just spoken French?. Yes, I had. In fact, the entire conversation exchanged between the two boys up until now had been spoken in French, and I understood it.

No, wait, not possible, I could have sworn they were speaking English, it sounded English, yet it wasn't was it? I had replied so easily, as if French was a second language to me, which it was anything but - my report card was proof of that.

Bewildered, I took off my jacket and folded it over the back of the seat as I numbly lifted myself onto the bar stool and swung around so that I had a clear view of both Sebastian and Ven. "Apparently so" I muttered, in English this time. Just when I thought I'd had enough crazy for one day.

I was vaguely aware of Sebastian staring at me from across the room and I scrambled to shift the attention that had once again, landed on me. Ugh, it was like the first day of school all over again. "Anyway, Is it some sort of nephilim custom to skip introductions?" I gave a pointed look to Ven who laughed, promptly extending his hand.

"Ven." he confirmed what I had already assumed and gave a firm shake of my hand. "The cook, chef, 'mundie' as they like to call me, and person who supplies the pears, most of which are then shown the uttermost disrespect by that creature sitting over there." he had picked up his rolling pin and gestured to Sebastian, who was biting marks into the soft green skin of the pear with his fingernails.

Ven scowled. "You come in here, take my pears and waste them!" now that Ven was speaking my native tongue, I picked up the slightest hint of a French accent. It took all my will power to refrain from making any stereotypical comments. "Why the pears? what have they done to deserve this?"

"They're odd." Sebastian replied without hesitation.

"Says the demon child." I flinched at the remark, but Sebastian chuckled. I wagered Ven was one of very few people who could talk to Sebastian like that.

"They're like the retarded offspring of apples and pineapples." Sebastian continued to scar the skin of the fruit without mercy. I shared his disapproval of pears and continued to watch with glee.

"Takes one to know one."

At that Sebastian shot a glare at Ven that could puncture holes through steel. Ven chuckled good naturedly, leaning across the tabletop and dropping his voice to a whisper.

"Now tell me, you scared of Mr Morgenstern over there miss?" his mouth was curved into a grin, though his eyes weren't laughing, they were serious and stern, an underlying cunningness to them - the only indication that he was _more_ than a human who liked to cook. He had the sight.

He continued rolling the dough and I noticed he only had three fingers on his right hand, the hand which he purposefully avoided when shaking my own.

I opened my mouth, the sight leaving me without words. "A little." I admitted, trying not to stare.

This seemed to satisfy him, he nodded. "Wise. He is not to be taken lightly, no matter how charming the man can be." he fit what I now realised to be pastry into a tart tin, putting it into the oven and turning the timer. "Now," he dusted his hands onto his apron. "The lady is hungry I assume, grilled cheese?" he asked, and I nearly cried at the offer.

"I would literally lick the flour off the table."

He laughed, a friendly laugh that seemed to lift the nerves from my chest. "Grilled cheese it is." 

* * *

**How do you like it so far? I've got exciting things planned - you'll be seeing a lot more action so stay tuned! eek!  
Also if you want the chance to be featured in the story - leave a comment with your full name, hair colour and favourite snack. I'll be picking a few people to use as some extra fellow nephilim/downworlders that'll be stopping by. :)**


	8. Something Gold

Whilst Ven managed to make a two minute grilled sandwich taste like a five star restaurant signature dish, he told me all about himself - about having the sight and how he came to work for the Awakened. It was strangely therapeutic to be able to chat with someone so open and I soon found out he was the only known kid to escape the recruitment two years ago, which was how he lost his two small fingers on his right hand climbing a fence. I had always thought the stories where people lost fingers climbing fences were fake, but as he recounted the gruesome details I believed them now.

An awakened patrol had picked him up once he escaped, a bleeding hand clutched to his chest. Ven recounted the whole event with a detached tone, as if he were merely discussing the weather and not his abduction. I also found out he was only a year my senior despite the maturity in which he conversed with me; all manners and polite factual conversation. I felt like a child in comparison.

When Sebastian signalled that break time was over, I was surprised to feel sad. I wasn't the social-butterfly sort, never had been seeing as how I had led a very secluded life at home, but if the alternative was listening to Jocelyn give more depressing history lessons (even if it meant I'd get some answers) then I'd rather much stay in the kitchen all day talking to Ven and watching him cook - which would be quite the entertainment considering he wasn't entirely sore on the eyes.

Okay, he was hot. Like, really hot. But also French, and he, like all Frenchman; was a bit of a flirt.

Reluctantly I followed Sebastian back into the Keeper's room where Jocelyn stood at the head of the circular table, gazing down at papers, she looked as if she hadn't left the room since our departure. Sebastian took up his previous position near the window and I sat down in a chair that seemed to bite into my back. Damn wooden chairs - all fancy looking but unfulfilling in their true purpose.

Jocelyn didn't mess around with small talk or anything, instead picking up where we left off with ease, as if she had a whole speech written for this moment.

"Over eight years ago, we received a letter." Jocelyn exhaled, a clear pain in her voice as she addressed the past. "It had been a couple of years since I'd put the life of a Shadowhunter behind and took on the oaths of an Awakened, building our residence here, in this very Sanctuary." she gestured to the great domed room in a wide sweep of arms before taking a seat. "At first, it was our wish to remain at peace with the Shadowhunters, but we realised that notion was clearly one-sided when they sent their men to annihilate our own." I shivered as she met my eyes. "In their sleep. We lost good people, good soldiers, as did they. It became clear to me then just how deluded the Clave had become, the extent that they would go to soothe and redeem their hurt pride and barbaric rules while according to our brothers' prophecies, we were about to face a war unlike any other against our _real_ enemy. Their priorities weren't straight."

"Demons." I whispered, more to myself than anyone.

She nodded, "Demons indeed, and this war, let me remind you, has yet to happen." she scoffed, "God only knows if it will happen at all, but the faith in our Silent Brothers is great, and therefore, when it was told they had had visions of a war..." she frowned, lost in memories, "It was taken very seriously."

I shifted in my seat, "Do you believe it? that there will be a war, I mean."

My voice seemed to snap her back to reality and she gave a brief smile. "I don't know," she admitted, "but I do know there is a war between our own kind, and that, is very much real." She stood and walked over to the window which was coated in a blur of frost, I wasn't sure what she was looking at, or even for, but my heart filled with sorrow at the sight. She was a strange woman, I decided, Jocelyn Fairchild. At one moment she could be ablaze with power and strength, the next she was like a little girl, helplessly watching the world turn to chaos with no idea how to stop it.

I thought about the books I'd read, the series which I had held so dear to my heart - this, I realised, was nothing like the stories. Or maybe it was? I hoped so anyway, I hoped that when the time came Jocelyn would win her war, I hoped there was an answer to her problems just like there was always an answer to Clary's problems. In the end, I really hoped real life had a happy ending like the stories.

I looked at the people around me now; Sebastian, Jocelyn...these people were not meant to be real, they were characters, yet here they were. As real as me. Living, breathing human beings. They weren't just characters brought to life through words on pieces of paper anymore, they were flesh and blood.

"The night after the attack, a message arrived on the doorstep of the Sanctuary." She spoke slowly, "A single piece of parchment paper, nothing fancy." she put her hand to the glass and I marvelled at the way the winter glow reflected on her skin, once again I ached for my pastels. "There was something else as well, something big, about the length of my forearm. It was gold. A feather. So incredibly light and soft." I heard the sound of a lock being opened and then she walked over to my seat.

I drew a breath. There, in front of me, she had placed an object of incomprehensible beauty. It was a golden feather, with a singular golden eye at the tip of it, staring. I reached out and touched it, taking care of being gentle. I took it in my hand and stroked its fine strands of silk, the feeling sending shivers through my whole body.

I knew what this was - an Angels' feather. Plucked from its' very wings. An overwhelming sorrow hit me and I was surprised to feel a tear run down my cheek. My reaction startled me and I quickly put the feather back down on the table. What startled me the most was that a name kept repeating itself in my head, a name every nephilim knew.

"Raziel." I whispered. 

* * *

**Well well well, look who's back with more content for all you Sebastian/TMI lovers ;D**  
 **Life has been hectic, as life tends to be, so leave a review if you want to see more! reading all your lovely words really motivates me to continue writing! x**


	9. Answers That Create More Questions

Sebastian and Jocelyn stared at me with curiosity and I immediately wiped away the tear, hoping they hadn't noticed my reaction.

"Yes." Jocelyn breathed, "Raziel's feather." she frowned. "How did you know?"

"I've read stories about your world, remember?" I tried to appear nonchalant. "Raziel's feather's are said to have eyes, like this one." I gestured to the object. Jocelyn nodded, understanding replacing the brief confusion.

"The paper was a poem, a poem specifically mentioning you." she continued and returned to the window with the feather, carefully placing it back inside the wooden box. "It was a message, we knew that much. A message from the Angel Raziel himself, clearly taking our side in this war between nephilim. Raziel is not one to meddle idly in our affairs. Don't you see Shannae?" her eyes were feverish. "Raziel had sent a message to us, telling us how we could win this war. He mentioned you in the poem - your name - what he was trying to say couldn't have been clearer."

I frowned as her eyes widened with anticipation, I was obviously meant to have caught onto something by now. My eyes whipped between hers and Sebastian's who had slightly tensed in his armchair, looking like he was ready to jump into action at any given time, though I couldn't guess why, we were in the safest part of the Sanctuary were we not?

"Oh come on Shannae!" Jocelyn exclaimed, exasperated and impatient. My heart raced. "Raziel sent instructions on how to find you! on how to bring you back to our world. You are the one we've been waiting for. You will help us win this ugly war between nephilim for Raziel himself has said so, he has engaged us and shone his light upon our dire situation." She took a shuddering breath and smiled, "Don't you see?"

I stood up, no longer able to sit still and pretend to be composed.

Holy shit.

Blimmin' Heck.

This was _not_ happening.

I had an instant flashback to when I was at school. Eight years old. Standing up to the bullies who'd tease other kids for their glasses, orange hair, or just about any quality that marked them as different. I'd ignore it at first - the taunting verbal abuse - but it'd quickly escalate to something much worse, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn't turn a blind eye and walk away like most kids, I knew I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did. So, I jumped to their defence, giving as good as I got and always being sent home with bruises and cuts from the fights. I had never believed in God, but that night the determined and passionate eight year old I was had knelt by the bed like a good Christian, which she was anything but, and swore to His Almighty that she would always protect those in need and do everything in her power to help.  
That little girl, now all grown up, was very much regretting her words now.

"You are our saviour, our salvation, our hero-" she cut off at the disapproving look Sebastian shot her way, it seemed to say, _enough_. Jocelyn looked away, embarrassed at her passionate outburst.

I would have been grateful to Sebastian were it not for the icy hand that seemed to grip me, strangling my every sense. I was cold all over. I thought I couldn't breathe although I knew I was breathing just fine. I expected my legs to fall out beneath me and the world to suddenly grow darker with this frightening revelation, but none of that happened, instead I stood there, dumbfounded.

I responded the only way I knew how to when faced with something that scared the hell out of me, with a load of sarcasm and sass. "You're kidding me right?" my voice was quiet and for a moment I doubted I'd spoken them at all, the sympathy in Sebastian's face said otherwise. I gripped the back of the chair, my eyes unfocused and distant. I felt my mind should have been whirling, instead it was blank. I whipped my head up to meet Jocelyn's gaze. "You're kidding right?" I repeated, louder this time. There was a challenge behind those words.

Jocelyn studied me behind glittering eyes, her expression wary yet...hopeful, I realised. What she was hopeful about I couldn't say, maybe that I wouldn't march across and punch her.  
My laughter was devoid of humour, "You're saying you dragged a seventeen year old high-school girl across dimensions to help you win a war?"

Jocelyn nodded and lurched into another lecture, "You were in a pocket dimension, not a real one but a cheap, materialised one that kept you hidden. We're not sure why you were there, it's not a real world with living people who have souls, it is merely the reflection of our world but... hollow and empty. All your nephilim qualities would have been mostly dormant until you met Sebastian, meeting him seemed to trigger the angel blood in you." she sounded thoughtful, like she wasn't certain of her own theory.

I, however, felt like I was about to explode. My blood was literally boiling and I clenched my teeth so hard that I heard ringing noises echo through my ears.

A pocket dimension? A fake and hollow world?

I felt tears spring to my eyes, "How dare you." I ground out in my most deadliest voice.

At this point apparently Sebastian has thought it best to stand up, his expression a mixture of wariness and warning. He looked at me with tight lips, trying to get a message across. I heard it loud and clear. _Calm down_ , it said, _be reasonable about this_.

I tore my gaze from his to his mother's, ignoring the message. "How dare you call my life, my world, fake and hollow!" I shouted. "How dare you call my family soulless!"

Jocelyn took a step back, shocked at my outburst. I saw regret in her eyes, like maybe she hadn't realised that that was what she had been saying, nevertheless I kept coming. I felt no pity.

"You bitch! how dare you stand there and declare my whole life up until now has been worthless and meaningless!" I wiped the tears from my eyes angrily, "And your saviour?..." I didn't finish my sentence and seemed to find this funny and laughed, my voice sounding completely unhinged and crazy. I didn't care though. I _was_ crazy. This was obviously some insane dream I couldn't seem to wake up from, I assured myself. I wanted to believe this with all my might, because the other option was accepting that this really wasn't a dream and I was never going to see my family, never going to be normal again, and I didn't think I could handle that.

Jocelyn's eyes glittered as her chest rose and fell with tension, "You're special." she breathed the words, somehow making the word _special_ sound...well, exactly that - special.

My anger flared.

Without thinking, I stalked across the room towards the weapons table and seized a blade. I didn't know or care what sort, but it was long and sharp enough to be feared which was all that mattered.

I was halfway through lifting it off the bench when a hand gripped my wrist. I turned, shocked to see Sebastian glaring at me through half-lidded eyes. Where he touched me stung with a fierce burn but I pushed the pain aside, It took me a moment to find my voice.

"What are you doing?" I grunted.

"Put the weapon down." he ordered.

I didn't want to put the weapon down. I wanted to feel the weight of it against my palm. Feel it slice the air and plunge through Jocelyn's neck, slicing her vocal chords and silencing her words about how my life was apparently meaningless forever. I wanted her to suffer, the way I was suffering right now.

I strained against Sebastian's strength, surprising him with my own. Behind him Jocelyn stood, hand hovering over something at her hip. A weapon, I guessed.

 _Good, she would need one._

"You want a weapon?" Sebastian muttered, "I'll get you a weapon, you'll have your pick. Just let this one go." his voice was stern, and suddenly, very reasonable. I frowned, watching my arm resist his strength with a distant attachment, like the arm belonged to someone else completely. "You don't want to hurt her." The words surprised me and I whipped my eyes to his, I saw sadness reflected there which surprised me even further, "Put the blade down."

I did. The blade clattered onto the table. I clenched and unclenched my fists, feeling bewildered and admittedly, a little lost. The anger and dark thoughts that had gripped me was so intense and, well, uncharacteristic. As uncharacteristic as me doing back flips and killing demons I supposed, yet that had still happened.

Sebastian released my arm wordlessly, his eyes never leaving mine.

What were those eyes trying to tell me? I wondered, what were they seeing when they rested on a girl like me? A girl so utterly confused and traumatized and honestly, downright crazy?

I couldn't take it anymore, I burst out of the room, running blind. Leaving the sound of Jocelyn's raised voice and Sebastian's soft, reassuring one behind. I ran, letting the tears roll freely, I had no idea where I was going, I came to a set of stairs and climbed, taking the steps two by two.

What did it mean? what did any of it mean?

I sobbed. Oh god, I was just a teenage girl, fighting and winning wars wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I had sworn to help and protect others. And Raziel, how did he know who I was? why was I so important? And for the love of god what had I been about to do with that blade?

Questions swam inside my mind, ones I feared I'd never know the answer to. 

* * *

**Next chapter shouldn't be too long away ~ ^.^ ~ nearly got it wrapped! hope you're enjoying it so far.**


	10. Your Touch

The chilled air seemed to expand my lungs and I gasped, thankful for the open sky above me which seemed to calm my nerves. Even the large, spacious interior of the Sanctuary it seemed, set off my claustrophobia.

I closed the hatch leading out onto the roof and strode the tiled roof with ease, leaning against one of the separate tower walls that stretched high into the sky, piercing the clouds above.

My hands were shaking, and I jammed them into my armpits, the sun blinding me with its glow as I gazed over the city which gleamed white with snow.

London. I realised with a start. It was London. Unmistakably. Complete with all the London-y things like double-decker buses, and that big clock - the big bill or something, I couldn't quite remember - Geography had never been a strength of mine. My head had began to pound something fierce and I shivered against the bite of winter air. I loved winter, it was my favourite season, being a beach-bum Australian and all who spent my whole life having summer Christmases on the beach, it was always a novelty to experience winter, and better still, a white winter.

But the thoughts of Christmas and home were far from my mind.

"Shannae..."

I whirled, panic seizing me. Sebastian approached me with a wary gentleness, almost as if I were a wild animal to be tamed. At the sight of him my body relaxed, all the while my mind cautioned me to stay on guard. I eyed him, regarding him with a new-found hostility, he must have realised it too because he stopped short, his thick navy coat swaying gently in the wind. I didn't dare imagine how warm he probably was in it.

"S-stay away." I said, the cold causing my teeth to chatter. I clenched my fists, biting my nails into the palm of my hands which were now numb. He clearly noticed this too.

"You are blue." he muttered disapprovingly. He raised a shoulder to shrug off his jacket and I immediately recognised the gesture, I backed up.

"No, don't bother." I reached the edge of the roof and quickly spared a glance down to judge the height. Almost sixty feet. I wasn't sure where the measurement came from, but a gut feeling told me it was accurate. There was a tree nearby, possibly within jumping distance. It was dead and covered in snow, but nonetheless it would break my fall pretty nicely if I could find my footing on a branch somewhere on the fall down. Fat chance.

I winced, looking back up to meet Sebastian's gaze. They reflected my thoughts.

"You wouldn't make it." he said, but he couldn't hide the doubt that laced his voice, uncertainty. It fuelled me with hope.

The events of the past twenty-four hours played back and I shivered at the words Jocelyn had used.

 _Hero. Salvation. Fated._

It was all too much like a bad movie, I wasn't fated, I wasn't a hero and I most certainly was not their salvation. I recalled the look on the pixie girl's face when she realised who I was - what had she seen when she looked at me? surely not a hero? the hope that had lit up her eyes squeezed at my heart with panic, and more importantly, denial. Denial of the feeling that had tightened my lungs, letting me know that what Jocelyn had said was true.

I _was_ a fated hero, I _was_ their salvation.

The certainty in which I reflected on those statements scared the hell out of me.

"How did I do that?" I blurted, throwing my hands in the air. I watched as the clouds I breathed diffused in the air and Sebastian cock his head with a frown.

"Do what?"

"In the kitchen, speak French!" I said, exasperated. "Was it a trick? like some language rune or something?" I took a deep breath and exhaled, a sudden fear gripped me that maybe I was about to have an asthma attack, even though I had long-since grown out of my asthma.

I was also vaguely aware that I couldn't feel my toes, they were probably frozen solid and another fear gripped me - fear of them catching on a twig and snapping off on the fall down.

Yeesh.

Sebastian's face turned soft. It was a familiar look, I remembered, one he gave me back in my room. I recalled how it chilled me to the bone and made my whole body freeze with fear. I swallowed. That's what it was all about then - that sad and sympathetic expression- it was because he pitied me, it was because he knew who I was and what I was destined for.

"It was no trick. That was all you cupcake."

 _Yeah. That was all you cupcake._ The voice taunted.

 _Starting to doubt yourself now are you?_ _Not that I blame you, these foreign emotions you're feeling - all boiling away in the deepest and darkest part of your mind._ it giggled with delight and the sound sent shivers down my spine. _Scary! so scary! I mean, you want to kiss him, don't you? but at the same time, you sort of want to gouge his eyes out and watch the life bleed from his...well, I would say eyes but hypothetically you just gouged them out from his skull...oh damn it, that wasn't smooth._

The voice turned embarrassed and promptly cleared it's throat. The fact I could hear every breath and movement of the voice's speech irked me, it was as if nothing else existed in the world but the voice and me, amplifying every sound it made in the quiet space I existed.

 _Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, you can't trust yourself anymore. But you can trust me! you can_ always _trust me._

"Shut the hell up." I muttered, ignoring Sebastian as he frowned and thankfully, it did.

Great, I thought to myself, so apparently I'd crossed a language barrier I never knew I could, found out I was practically Harry Potter destined to defeat bloody Lord Voldemort, and that I have an alter-ego with a mouth larger than my own, if that was even possible. All in the space of twenty-four hours.

Nice. I was officially losing my mind.

Silence followed as we regarded each other, both utterly aware of the distance between us. A brief desire to read his thoughts gripped me and I shoved them away with a furious hand.

I didn't care what people thought of me, I reminded myself sternly. Mostly because I _knew_ what they thought.

Different.

Weird.

Strange.

The list went on.

The wails of sirens split the silence and we both glanced out over London City. There was no pink sunset like back at home I realised, no fluffy clouds and exotic birds crying as the last light of day fell away. Instead there was a vague direction of blinding light behind overcast skies, the only indication that there was a sun at all. It was beautiful, yet at the same time eerily sad; washing away the vibrant colours of the city to a monochromatic picture of misery.

Like the stories, London weather was positively dreary.

"It's going to be okay." he whispered.

I glanced back to Sebastian, his voice pulling me from my mundane thoughts of London and weather, back to the glum reality of my world. But he wasn't looking at me, he was still looking out over the city, eyes fixed on something.

A boy, I realised, crossing the road, hand-in-hand with his mother who he looked up at adoringly. Blue, his eyes were. A startling blue like the Bahamas' oceans on a clear day.

I frowned, aware that from this distance I shouldn't have been able to judge the gender of the child, let alone his eye colour. At the sudden realisation my sight seemed to snap back into my body, like a rubber band being pulled taught, I was on the roof again, my eyes blinking against the strangeness of what I had just experienced. Narrowing my eyes I tried to find the child again, feeling a pound against the insides of my eyelids as they strained to exceed 20/20 vision.

Sebastian's face was pained as he ripped his gaze from the scene, once again I wished I could read his thoughts.

"It's going to be okay. You're in shock, and that's fine." his voice was directed at me, it was soft and full of understanding. No trace of the bantering tone he'd used with Ven in the kitchen, or the cold, carefully composed tone he used around his mother.

He closed the distance, apparently taking my silence for a sign of submission, and I was anything but submissive.

The wind threw strands of platinum hair into his eyes and I marvelled at the way they seemed to reflect the light of the dim glow from the sun. His hair contrasted with the navy blue of his jacket which was still open despite the cold, revealing his muscular torso made from zero percent fat.

He smiled, the sight sending off millions of butterflies in my stomach. "You're special."

"So I've been told by your mother dearest." I folded my arms across my chest, unconsciously taking a step back. I realised the space between me and the fatal fall to my doom was getting smaller and instinctively shifted my weight, placing my feet firmly apart. "She made that really clear."

The distance that seemed so vast was now closed to an inch, the heat that radiated from his body thawing my skin like fire to ice. I was super aware of how close we were and was afraid that the drum of my heart was audible, knowing full well it was highly unlikely.

A flash of annoyance flickered across his features at the mention of Jocelyn, quickly replaced by an easy smile that didn't entirely meet his eyes. "Jocelyn has been waiting for you for some years now, she's just relieved." he spoke as if he were reciting facts, not justifying his mother's actions.

"Relieved that I actually exist?"

He shook his head, "We never once doubted your existence, Raziel himself mentioned you."

"Ah, yes, Raziel." I grunted distastefully. "By god, I've never wanted to kill someone as much as I want to your angel right now." Sebastian's eyes widened and I waved his surprise away. "Sorry mate, but your obsessive worship to this guy aside, he has sort of screwed my life over."

He laughed, a burst of wonder that lit up his face with a beautiful mixture of madness and amusement. I stared as he licked his lips, moistening them against the dry chill and making them look more appealing than ever. I groaned internally, trying not to stare.

"Two things," he said as he regained his composure, "One, I can't believe you just said 'mate', and second, you did all the screwing yourself. "

"Excuse me?" I countered.

"You could have refused my offer," at my blank expression he rolled his eyes, delight clear on his face, "you know, to be my accomplice? to burn down the world together?"

I scrunched my face up into something I guessed did _not_ look attractive. "Mhmm." I muttered, pursing my lips. "So, what? I'd just say 'no' and you'd have shrugged, turned around and waltzed right back to the dimension you came from? I don't think so, you'd have brutally dragged me out by my leg."

The smile fell from his face as he thought about this. "Ah, you're right." he said, somewhat guiltily.

"Yup, so I guess _you_ screwed me over."

That statement seemed to amuse him even further and something mischievous glinted in his eyes.

I scowled, "Innuendo not intended."

"Oh, innuendos are _always_ intended." he replied, a grin plastered across his face.

I laughed despite myself, unable to resist the contagious delight. My heart lifted a little and I no longer felt the need to drastically fling myself off the side of the building in an attempt to escape. The delight was short lived however as a strong gust of wind blew a tangle of my brown locks into my face. I squealed then choked, clawing at the mass of hair suffocating me.

I could hear Sebastian laughing, apparently finding my near-death experience amusing.

Oh dear," he chuckled, "here."

In momentary blindness I stumbled and Sebastian cursed, the floor falling out beneath my feet as I felt his hand enclose my upper forearm, promptly yanking me towards him.

A jolt of electricity shot up my arm at his touch and I immediately recoiled, stumbling around blindly yet again.

"Whoa, whoa. Shannae, steady." he coaxed, catching hold of my wrist with one hand as the other swept the hair from out of my face.

I caught a glimpse of the tattoo I'd seen earlier on his wrist and realised it was the same mark on the door to the Keeper - the Awakened rune. The sight of it sent my head spinning.

I could've sworn his fingers seemed to linger, the heat from his fingertips grazing the skin of my cheekbone and jaw.

He smiled. "See? all good. You gave me a fright, you nearly hurled yourself off the building."

My heart was pounding. I was super aware of everywhere his skin was in contact with mine, and not in a romantic way - it burned. Really burned. Like fire and electricity - a throbbing, _painful_ burn. My cheek burned and I flinched away from his touch. A flash of hurt crossed his features as he dropped both hands by his side and stepped back, clenching and unclenching his fists.

I immediately regretted it."The mark on your wrist, what's it for?" I asked in a desperate attempt to cut the tension, even though I knew the answer.

He rolled the cuff of his sleeve back, and looked at me. "Don't you recognize it? it's the same as the one on the Keeper's door." In the space of five seconds, his tone had returned cold and distant, any progress I assumed I had made was thwarted with a single gesture. My heart sank.

The mark, I did recognize of course, it was hard to forget. The symbol made my head throb and I averted my gaze from it. "Ah, it must have slipped my mind." I mumbled.

The look he gave me said he very much doubted that, but he thankfully let it go. I had always been quite a convincing liar, but at that moment Sebastian made me feel like anything but.

"It marks us out as Awakened, we all have it." he said as he studied me for a few moments.

Again, I felt the weight of that gaze like it came from a million eyes, not just a pair. The throb in my head began to dull, but when I looked back at the marking on his wrist, it returned.

"It hurts." I raised my eyebrows, gesturing to his wrist. "Looking at it hurts my head."

He nodded, seemingly not surprised by this information. "That's normal."

"Why?"

"Because it's not the language of the Angels," he tugged the sleeve back down to cover the mark, "It's a demonic language, a demonic rune."

I froze, briefly stunned by his words.

At the look on my face headed, "One of the worst." and grinned, but this grin was nothing like the light, amused grin he'd flashed before; this one was filled with mirth and corruption, it made my heart race faster. "And if you're to be with us," he turned and started striding towards the hatchet. I jogged to keep up with him, anticipating his next words with fear. "then you will receive one too."


End file.
